Old Yellow Eyes Is Back

…no, this isn’t going to a long and drawn out blog entry ruminating over the merits of Brent Spinder’s 1991 attempt at ironic music.

Over the past four days, I have had several run ins with everyone’s favourite and most common bodily fluid – urine. Yum. đŸ˜¡ Not being into watersports, it was not a week I care to repeat…ever.

Thursday I left work in a severe rush, I was anxious to get home. Can’t even remember why. In any event, I ended up taking the subway home. When I got off, I walked very purposefully towards my apartment building. About 30 yards away, I decided to pull out my keys from the front pocket of my backpack. As I reached around, I realized that the pocket was not firmly zipped shut as I had anticipated, but gaping open. I stuck my hand in and didn’t notice anything missing, but I also couldn’t find my keys (I figured they would be in the main pocket).
I stopped in the construction tunnel that was erected in front of my building and placed by bag on the ledge. I opened the main zipper and quickly took out my shopping bags (from Old Navy and Bluenotes) and hastily placed them on the ground. As I did so, I noticed an putrid odour but ignored it as there were more important and immediate concerns.
Inside my bag, I couldn’t find my keys at all. I must have forgot them at work. I grabbed my blackberry and couldn’t for the life of me remember anyone’s extensions. Also, my blackberry was having a hard time with the company directory. I figured I would just go to the management office and get the spare set and retrieve my keys at work later. I lifted up one of my bags and the smell became instantly worse. I reached down to the bottom of the bag, which was soaking wet, and thought, “Wow…that’s a lot of water…”
My hand came back up to about 10 inches from my nose and I smelled quite possible the most odious, abhorrent and unspeakable wave of stench I have ever experienced. Like “The Bog of Eternal Stench” levels here, people. I immediately dry heaved and dropped the bag. Thankfully, my clothes remained inside it and dry. I picked up the other bag and idiotically placed my OTHER hand in that wetness.

So, I’m standing outside my building, an open backpack, a blackberry and two shopping bags, dripping and stinking with piss. At this point, it was obvious that I couldn’t return to work, either walking or on the subway. The smell would have killed me long before anyone else got a chance to partake.
I headed to the management office and carefully asked from the farthest distance possible, if I could have the keys to my apartment. The woman asked to see my picture ID. Great…I have to fish out my wallet and then my license with a urine stinking hand and give it to her. UGH. I did find the wallet, then the license and eventually got the keys. I ran into my apartment, threw down the bags and began washing my hands with the hottest water I could handle. They were quite red afterwards. None of the clothes ended up getting wet, thank god – but that was not to be the case for long…


Friday night, Ian, Trevor and I headed out to the usual fun and friendly nightspots we frequent. But, since those places were packed, we headed to O’Grady’s and the Eagle instead. I decided to wear a pair of my new jeans (which looked badass, btw); one of the pairs that was protected in my Bluenotes bag from the piss storm outside my building on that fateful Thursday.
O’Grady’s was uneventful, save running into these two dudes from Scotland that I spoke with online (I forgot last weekend was the weekend they were in). They said they were headed to the Eagle, so Trevor, Ian and I conferred and decided to head over in a half hour or so.
We arrived at the Eagle and it was dark and packed, as it usually is on a Friday night. I was already well into my stupid phase of drinking, so when I saw the two Scots, I immediately waved, stepped up onto the bench that divides the patio in half and looked for a landing spot. There was one and I jumped down. As I hit the ground, however, my left leg shot out in front of me and my right leg slammed into the bench right behind me. I spilled my beer all over my leg. This nice guy helped me back up as I whispered, “Shit, man…didn’t see that beer there.” He straightened me up and said, “That wasn’t beer.” I looked where he was now pointing and saw some young dude getting pissed on…


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~ by seangstm on October 22, 2007.

2 Responses to “Old Yellow Eyes Is Back”

  1. No sarcasm on my end, I swear! đŸ™‚

  2. I used to have that CD and don’t forget MY JEANS! đŸ˜‰

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